


I'll Be Good

by naasad



Series: I'll Be Good [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Flashpoint (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Dimension Travel, Family, Feels, Gen, Ghosts, Graphic Description of Corpses, Hurt/Comfort, Jack and Janet Drake's A+ Parenting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-09
Updated: 2018-05-09
Packaged: 2019-05-04 12:00:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14592597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/naasad/pseuds/naasad
Summary: When the BatKids are transported to the Flashpoint universe, they decide to hole up in the old Drake Mansion while they figure out how to get home.





	I'll Be Good

**Author's Note:**

> Forgive me, I'm running on two hours of sleep and apparently, that makes me morbid. I cried like three times writing this.

"Here we go," Tim muttered, finally breaking through the old locks and pushing the door open as he stood. "Welcome to the historic Drake Mansion."

"Where is everyone?" Cass asked, eyes roaming the halls.

Tim shrugged, closing the door behind his posse of siblings. "No Bruce means the Obeah Man probably killed both my parents and then I was carted off by some obscure relative to be used for my trust fund. The house will be empty until I turn eighteen."

"Damn," Jason laughed, "rich people are always stabbing eachother in the back, aren't they?"

There was a clatter somewhere in the house and as one, they all turned, flashlights illuminating a dirty little boy.

Cassandra gasped. "Brother?" She took a careful step forward, and the child bolted.

"Me?" Tim asked. "That kid's like seven."

"Looks more like five," Dick said.

Jason and Tim exchanged a look.

"Well?" Damian demanded. "Aren't we going to go find him?"

"Wanted us to," Cass said, already picking her way through the priceless antiques.

The boys followed behind.

They lost track of the child several times, but he would always appear again before dashing off - the bottom of the basement staircase, opposite the wine cellar....

"It's a dungeon down here," Jason joked.

"Yeah," Tim murmured.

Finally, they came to a stop just outside a locked door.

Cass reached for the handle, but Tim stopped her with a hand on her shoulder and a shake of his head. "I already know what we're going to find," he said.

Tiny Tim tugged on Jason's pantleg and held out his arms in the universal sign for "up, please".

Jason happily perched his little brother on his hip. "Do you want us to go in?"

The boy nodded.

Tim sighed but stepped back, determinedly not looking as Cass unlocked the door and swung it open.

At first glance, it looked like a person curled up on the floor.

"Hey, kid," Jason called, "you alright?" He lifted his flashlight and it became apparent it was more accurately a body.

He blinked in shock as Tiny Tim faded from his grasp and reappeared near his own mummified remains.

"Okay," Dick breathed, wrapping his arms around Tim's shoulders. "Let's go upstairs and figure out what happened."

Tim shook his head. "It's obvious. They forgot about me and went on one of their trips then never came back. Usually, the housekeeper of the week would let me out, but I guess, in this universe, they must have fired her or something."

Dick pulled his little brother close. "Okay. Let's go upstairs."

Tim nodded, and only once the two of them disappeared did the others step into the room.

"Discoloring on the extremities," Damian reported. "Hypothermia."

Jason crouched down to look at the yellowed mouth. "Blood on the teeth. Probably tore all his vocal cords, might've choked to death on it." He glanced up at the boy's ghost. "Is that why you're not talking? Does it hurt?"

The boy nodded.

"Fingers are torn to hell." Damian looked up then walked over to the door and ran his gloved hands over the deep grooves until they caught on something.

Jason lifted up a hand to examine it further and noted the missing fingernail.

"Dehydration," Cass said, "and starvation."

"What makes you say that?" Damian asked.

Cass gestured at the empty room, devoid of food, water, or even a window.

Jason clenched his jaw and stood. "I'm going to get a blanket or something. Something to move him with." His face twisted in rage as he turned away.

Tiny Tim put his hand over the R on Damian's chest.

"Ah," Damian said, "that's right, you knew Grayson before. He's upstairs, now, no doubt attempting to comfort your counterpart."

The ghost smiled.

Damian glanced at Cass before continuing. "In our world, you become Robin when you are thirteen years old. When you are sixteen, you become part of our family."

The child pointed at himself.

"Yes. You are our brother. My brother." Damian swallowed and looked down at the body before him. "You did not deserve this."

Tim wrapped his arms around himself and took a half step back.

"No," Damian said, recognizing the same look he had worn many times. "You didn't. You are not bad, you are good." As tears began streaming down the boy's face, Damian pulled him close, carding a hand through his hair. "You are good."

Jason returned then, a ratty blanket draped over his arm. He glanced at Damian then gestured for Cass to help him load the body into the blanket.

Soon enough, the three of them and the ghost were headed outside, Jason and Cass carrying their small burden between them.

"I was thinking we could bury him in the Wayne cemetery," Jason said. "It's a short walk, and then he'll have Bruce." He grunted. "A kid his age, I mean."

Damian snorted. "You would implicate our grandfather in his death should anyone investigate."

Tiny Tim tugged on Damian's hand and pointed to the woods.

"You'd like to be buried there?" Damian asked, raising an eyebrow.

The two older siblings turned to look.

Tim nodded.

"Lead the way," Jason said.

The boy set out slowly, occasionally flinching at unseen things, though whenever he did, the living could hear something just on the edge of their senses.

"Are you sure you'll be safe out here?" Jason asked.

The boy nodded and pointed to a tree.

A cat was curled up beneath it, a calico with a perfectly circular black mark in the middle of her forehead. When she saw Tim, she bounded forward, obviously overjoyed.

Damian peered closer to the tree, making out the carving in the side, nearly grown over. In a child's clumsy handwriting, it spelled STU BY. "Stubby?" he asked.

Tim smiled and pointed to the cat's left hind paw, which ended in a stump.

"What happened?"

Tim frowned and rubbed over the black spot on Stubby's forehead, then curled three fingers into his palm, index finger and thumb extended.

Damian winced. "Your father?"

Tim nodded slowly.

Damian sighed, then turned around. "Shovels," he said.

Jason nodded and left, reappearing much quicker this time.

They dug in silence, occasionally stopping to pet the cat or stare in the vague direction of whatever haunted the forest.

Hours later, they finally smoothed the last of the dirt over the grave.

Damian sighed and stared at the bare earth for a long moment before reaching into his belt and pulling out a single black stone. He ran his fingers over it several times before placing it at the center of the grave. "My mother gave it to me," he told Tiny Tim. "It's obsidian. It will help protect you from malevolent spirits." He knelt down beside Stubby and ran a hand over her ears, scratching gently at her neck. "Watch over him," he murmured.

Jason leaned down and picked up the child, holding him close. "You be safe," he whispered before setting him down. "You sure you don't want to come say hi to Dick and our you?"

Tim nodded, holding his cat close.

Cass pressed her hand to his heart. "Love you," she said simply.

They made it back to the mansion unmolested, finding Dick and Tim in the living room, mattresses, blankets, and pillows had been dragged into the center.

Tim was fiddling with something electronic on the mattress he had claimed as his.

Damian flopped down beside him, staring for a long, uncomfortable moment. "I'm sorry about your cat," he said finally.

Tim froze, then continued working.

Damian turned over and closed his eyes, almost missing his brother's whisper.

"Thank you."


End file.
